


i couldn't want you any more

by tongham



Category: Cravity (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Miscommunication, Partying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27753025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tongham/pseuds/tongham
Summary: when jungmo places his bet, wonjin puts great effort into not spitting out his mildly-effective but extremely-expensive alcohol. “jesus, how much faith do youhavein him?”jungmo shrugs. “it’s already going better than all other past attempts.” curious, wonjin peeks over jungmo’s shoulder to see for himself and, yeah, serim’s definitely smiling back. goddamnit. “why does it concern you so much?”“because that dude over there” – wonjin’s words come forceful, jabbing a finger over jungmo’s shoulder – “is giving me bad vibes. i don’t trust him with serim.”“and who do you think you are, deciding who you cantrust with serim?”he says the final words with great incredulity and bemusement, raising his eyebrows at wonjin. he knows that, if jungmo’s hands were free, he would’ve tauntingly supplied air-quotations and wonjin would’ve slapped him right then and there. maybe it’s for the best.“i –”jungmo just glares at him, sharp enough to cut wonjin’s words short, before taking another sip of the liquor he doesn’t drink.jungmo is a fucking liar.
Relationships: Ham Wonjin/Park Serim
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	i couldn't want you any more

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! this idea is... i don't even know what but it was honestly kinda fun to write, especially the trio dynamic! i reread some hockey rpf from the good old days today so i think the bro dialogue is very much reflective of that lmao.
> 
> this is crazy i wrote 5K TODAY? on this little thing? (+ the junsang from yesterday, pls check it out if you fancy that bc no one looks at the x1 tag anymore *puppy eyes emoji*) i am so tired but extremely motivated to postpone all my remaining november responsibilities to win nanowrimo!! idk if i'll stop the prompt list at 50k or 30 days, we will see
> 
> title from sunflower, vol. 6 by harry styles.

ham wonjin has become a go-getter, sue him.

he was never a standout in high school, grades exceptionally-average, slipping away from the institution with an honours distinction rewarded with great reluctance. things changed in university, increased flexibility upon packing his bags, when he entered his first economics course, a requirement to his bachelor of arts that steered him off-course. he actually did pretty well in math and he takes a wild guess at his enjoyment of incorporating the science with the real world. capitalism is unpredictable, as if there are no right answers. it’s what wonjin admires about the study.

it doesn’t take long for wonjin to laboriously switch faculties – he’s now en route to a bachelor of science, who would’ve ever imagined? he begins to enjoy school and the fruits of knowledge, bringing the boundless energy he once channeled into dance and baseball and student council into pristine lecture halls. he leaves a good impression on every professor to teach him, an eager volunteer fishing for future references. ever the strategist, wonjin was practically  _ made  _ for this.

in his second year, the class sizes began to shrink, warranting smaller rooms and more intimate teaching styles. wonjin loved it. correction – wonjin loved it  _ until _ one of his peers began consistently stealing his thunder, always the same damn person. competitive and highly-involved, wonjin interpreted park serim’s studious nature as a personal threat.

“would anyone like to come up and plot this lorenz curve?” tuesday morning, domestic economy tutorial, all but two students are mentally unavailable. “serim?” the teaching assistant calls out, pointing at the student with a dark blue marker. wonjin pulls his hand down and slumps in his seat, childishly disappointed as if it isn’t all but guaranteed that he’ll have a crack at the next one, as if the assistant doesn’t already know who he is.

serim plots the series of points, connecting the dots with finality and the assistant nods her head in silent approval. wonjin glares at serim, classmate distracted as he walks back to his seat. serim is – well, he’s not exactly quiet (quite impassioned, as the department learned through his economic demography discussions), but he  _ is _ intimidating, if not a bit mean. serim doesn’t smile much, his voice is always steady and composed – his appearance itself just  _ looks _ cold, features sharp and neutral expressions molded into a permanent scowl.

at least by his own self-evaluation, wonjin isn’t like serim – true to himself, playing his charms to his advantage, wonjin’s chosen strategy is small talk with professors and eventual back-and-forth in lectures on more interesting topics. wonjin swears he’ll  _ never _ be like serim, maintaining a world’s difference between the two star students.

* * *

when his favourite professor requires a teaching assistant for intermediate microeconomics, you  _ know  _ that wonjin is all over that opportunity. and, exactly as planned, he lands one of the three spots, waiting in the empty and echoing lecture hall to meet his two counterparts.

with wonjin being the first to arrive, koo jungmo comes second – wonjin knows him, a transfer like himself, smart and composed all while burdened with rumours of trust funds. wonjin chirps out a “hi,” jungmo just nods with a small smile and sits down to wait for the final assistant.

in hindsight, wonjin was stupid for expecting anything different. that doesn’t necessarily mean he has to hold onto his chair to prevent himself from falling when none other than  _ park serim _ walks through the door.

_ wonjin has a feeling this may not end well. _

* * *

wonjin is good. he’s fine. totally chill. helping out his favourite professor is as rewarding as advertised. and if he butts heads with serim on practice problem solutions every so often, there’s no one there to witness it except for jungmo and a group of tired sophomores who are  _ definitely _ regretting their scheduling choices.

it doesn’t take long, three weeks into the semester at most, before jungmo is shouting at them to  _ get back here before i beat both your asses _ after an evening tutorial. wonjin sighs and lets the knob slip out of his grasp, door swinging shut with a breeze, praying that jungmo will keep his interruptions oh-so-brief before the dining hall runs out of breadsticks.

“what is it,” serim says, barely a question, in the same monotone he always uses.

“you two,” jungmo points an accusatory finger, “need to get your shit together and learn to get along.”

wonjin glances over at serim with a scoff. “or else?” wonjin’s words spill out, irritated that jungmo would so much as perceive the elephant in the classroom.

“or else i’m reporting this to the faculty. both of you would be –” jungmo doesn’t finish his sentence, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder.  _ three strikes, you’re out. _ okay, wonjin can understand that much.

* * *

very inconspicuously and raising not a single hair of suspicion, jungmo “catches a cold” and misses the monday morning tutorial immediately following the confrontation. wonjin sends a  _ hangover? _ in the groupchat and leaves it at that – bullshit and they all know it, jungmo refuses alcohol like it’s a personality trait.

wonjin is always a half-hour early entering the building, silently whistling to will some energy into his persona in the most dreaded hours of the week. he reaches for his key to unlock the door to the mid-sized lecture hall, confused when it enters in an unlocked position.  _ huh, _ he thinks, brow furrowed as he stares at the doorknob. maybe the professor dropped by for something.

wonjin is bad at guessing for when he wanders into the hall, it’s not the course’s professor present but his fellow assistant – the one who isn’t hungover or sneezing or being a general nuisance to society right now.

“good morning,” serim says with a forced smile, leaning back in his chair with coffee in hand. “let’s just dive right in, the class average on this chapter was low last year.”

wonjin’s eyes widen – after two years as classmates, voices pitching in discussions as the most indirect of call-and-responses, this is the first time serim is speaking directly to wonjin. with the reciprocation of the dubious milestone on the way, wonjin laughs easily and rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “are you actually listening to jungmo?”

“yeah,” serim says, already much easier than his first statement. “he kinda had a point.”

“oh.” wonjin’s voice falls, mildly-disappointed in the fruits of his own labour. now that he thinks of it, it  _ is _ stupid when contextualized by a third party. “sorry. i can be a bit competitive.”

“it’s fine,” serim says but it falls flat, lacking the affections that would typically accompany a pardon. “it’s nice to have some competition.” and just when wonjin’s judgement is taking centre stage again, serim looks up from his notes ( _ scribbles,  _ wonjin called them disdainfully upon first glance and handed the whiteboard marker to jungmo) and offers a small smile. wonjin appreciates the gesture.

* * *

by circumstance, the trio begin to spend time together outside of class, wonjin and jungmo dragging serim along to social events around campus and beyond. jungmo is shocked to find out that serim is a lifelong single, insisting that someone who looks like  _ that _ – whatever  _ that _ may mean, it’s open to interpretation that makes wonjin think too much – cannot be single for long, an erroneous imbalance in the universe. he takes it upon himself to plunge the eldest into every situation imaginable, the majority ending in disaster.

stubborn, jungmo insists on serim’s inclusion in a friday night outing to a local bar. wonjin all but pulls him away from the eldest when another patron strikes up conversation with serim, clearly interested. they keep a watchful eye over their colleague, betting on the outcome – wonjin chooses another botched attempt, jungmo thinks they’ll be leaving without him.

when jungmo places his bet, wonjin puts great effort into not spitting out his mildly-effective but extremely-expensive alcohol. “jesus, how much faith do you  _ have _ in him?”

jungmo shrugs. “it’s already going better than all other past attempts.” curious, wonjin peeks over jungmo’s shoulder to see for himself and, yeah, serim’s definitely smiling back. goddamnit. “why does it concern you so much?”

“because that dude over there” – wonjin’s words come forceful, jabbing a finger over jungmo’s shoulder – “is giving me bad vibes. i don’t trust him with serim.”

“and who do you think you are, deciding who you can  _ trust with serim?” _ he says the final words with great incredulity and bemusement, raising his eyebrows at wonjin. he knows that, if jungmo’s hands were free, he would’ve tauntingly supplied air-quotations and wonjin would’ve slapped him right then and there. maybe it’s for the best.

“i –”

jungmo just glares at him, sharp enough to cut wonjin’s words short, before taking another sip of the liquor he doesn’t drink.  _ jungmo is a fucking liar. _

* * *

wonjin was wrong all that time ago – serim isn’t intimidating nor mean, not an all. only so much can be done to negate the nature of his physical appearance, silence from his strict upbringing and a bit of shyness. despite his impressive physical health, serim wouldn’t dare to hurt a flie – not that he could anyway, wonjin smiles to himself, recalling memories of serim huddling under the library table when there’s so much as a fruit-seeking mosquito in their collective presence.

most remarkably, serim is a _ flirt. _ surprisingly charming to those who know him best, a sharp contrast to his personality when thrust into unwanted social situations, he begins to break out of his shell and uses the confidence to flirt with anything with a pulse. it’s admittedly not good for wonjin’s heart but he doesn’t let it show, as casual and unaffected at the man staring back at him with a knowing smirk. wonjin’s a little bit fucked.

and when serim has alcohol in his system and gets bolder and clingier? wonjin is  _ very _ fucked.

as if the normal circumstances aren’t bad enough, jungmo dips to, quote-unquote,  _ find his true love. _ wonjin just snorts at the wording, friday night at this crowded hole-in-the-wall is where true love comes to  _ die. _ stupid, wonjin allows him to go and the burden of keeping park serim safe falls squarely on his shoulders. dear god, he is not strong enough for this.

as if to confirm his previous thought, serim plops down in wonjin’s lap, sitting across his legs with a beer can in his too-tight grip. wonjin hurriedly grabs the aluminum, crushed and threatening to spill over onto the leather couch. “hi,” serim says, words already slurring together. jesus fuck, it’s only nine in the evening.

“hey,” wonjin bounces back, pretending serim’s in his right mind. “would you mind getting up?” slightly flustered, serim’s muscles pack quite the weight and wonjin has always been physically weak.

“nope,” serim says gleefully, popping the  _ p. _ “you’re comfy. and familiar. strangers are weird.” serim’s hands fumble around as he speaks in short sentences, thoughts pouring out as they come.

“alright.” wonjin leaps into action when the elder snakes hands around his waist, an indication of cuddles to come that would significantly decrease his mobility. “i think it’s time for us to go –”

“shh,” serim shushes him, the fucker  _ placing a finger to wonjin’s lips. _ the younger boy freezes completely and serim just laughs. “it’s only early. jungmo will find us.”

“and that’s exactly the problem,” wonjin mumbles, unfiltered knowing that serim won’t remember this. “wouldn’t your own bed be more comfortable?”

serim just rubs his cheek against wonjin’s shoulder, “only if you’re in it,” and it takes all of wonjin’s willpower to not shove him off his lap, to the ground of the dingy establishment. first, serim never goes  _ that _ far when sober and secondly, he wouldn’t wish the stench of the club on his worst enemy (which, well, serim quite literally is – was).

dumbfounded and unable to respond, wonjin is grateful when serim shows signs of drifting to sleep, breaths against his neck steadying and grip relaxing. he abandons his own alcohol, placing it on the nearest surface, an unofficial tapout.

_ (when jungmo returns from his failed attempt at true romance, he reacts as if he walked in on something. he didn’t, wonjin assures himself.) _

* * *

because wonjin’s life is a joke, somewhere along the way, he develops a crush on his former academic rival.

to explain, it’s been there for a while and wonjin knows that. wonjin knows he gets too jealous when jungmo sets him up with random strangers and that his heart beats too fast in reaction to serim’s lighthearted words. but that’s how crushes work, littered hints until the  _ oh, shit _ moment hits like a semi-truck.

fortunately, wonjin is seated when his own famed  _ oh, shit _ moment strikes. it’s at the independent café-slash-bakery on campus; the assistants working on a concise semester review between conversational anecdotes reflecting on the course material connected with those weeks.

as jungmo eagerly retells the story of dragging a very drunk and  _ very  _ weak-stomached wonjin away from a house party like a mother dragging her temper tantrum-ridden child out of a department store  _ (jungmo’s own stupid fucking fault for teasing him about serim getting a bit too friendly with his match of the hour, _ wonjin wants to say but, obviously, bites his tongue. he is  _ so _ good at this whole self-control thing), wonjin sees serim smile for the first time –  _ really _ smile, unfiltered laughter instead of a wry quirk of the lips at a professor’s joke or a forced expression to please an incompatible match – he is simultaneously assaulted with every symptom of a stroke.

drawing his attention away from the distraction – serim is  _ so distracting, _ teeth gleaning white and eyes turned into little crescents and laugh tinkling like bells – “wonjin, are you okay?” he says under his breath

“yeah,” he says unconvincingly and jungmo reads him like a book. politely excusing himself to serim, he not-so-kindly yanks wonjin along with him by the wrist.

“tell serim,” is all the elder says when they round the corner to the washrooms, out of earshot of any other studying student.

“tell him what, exactly?” wonjin doesn’t back down, words confident as he widens his eyes in question, a small shake of his head.”

jungmo pinches at his temple in palpable frustration. “for fuck’s sake, wonjin,” he mutters under his breath before looking him dead in the eye, the most serious wonjin’s ever seen him. “tell serim you have feelings for him.”

* * *

wonjin thinks he’s addicted to avoidance. too many things changing all at once, too quickly, wonjin deals with his problems by not dealing with them. as the term wraps up, the assistants keep their conversation strictly academic and wonjin stops going out. he doesn’t know if jungmo still drags serim out – maybe, maybe not. either option is killing wonjin, killing him that jungmo knows and he  _ doesn’t. _ however, he estranged serim by his own volition, it’s his own stupid fucking fault he’s  _ pining _ from a distance. christ.

unstoppable force meeting immovable object, jungmo is impatient and annoying and always finds a way. over a long phone call, he lectures wonjin on healthy coping mechanisms and refuses to disclose any small-talkish information on serim that wonjin prods for.

“listen,” jungmo sighs loudly into the microphone, “if you want to know how serim’s doing, you could, oh, i don’t know” – wonjin prays for jungmo to just  _ get to the goddamn point already, _ not like he can’t predict the exact cliché he’s going to quote – “ _ talk to him.” _

wonjin shakes his head rapidly. “no way, what if he knows?”

“don’t worry about that, he does.”

“what the fuck, koo jung –” wonjin shrieks into the receiver before the line clicks dead and he resists the urge to smash his phone, instead squeezing his grip tighter around the device.

* * *

something happens to wonjin, an unbidden force carrying him to serim’s dorm on the first friday after the commencement of the new term, proper time to cool down from whatever the fuck jungmo’s antics were about.

mentally reminding himself that it’s too late to hide  _ he’s been drinking on his own. great. _

“how much have you had?”

“not much,” serim replies with a shake of his head, voice calm and nervous energy radiating off him. memories of drunk serim tucked in his mind, wonjin trusts him. “want some?”

wonjin shakes his head, he needs a clear mind. “there’s something i wanted to tell you.” he settles down on the edge of serim’s bed, the elder male shortly following suit by his side, bodies turned to each other at the atmosphere runs icy.

“well,” serim says, a hint of playfulness in his tone, “i’m ready?”

his sense of reason slipping away, wonjin can’t even trace the thought process that leads to his swift actions, all that plays out are actions – a hand raising to cradle serim’s jaw, licks of fire burning in his eyes, serim’s mouth hot and heavy and  _ everywhere. _

objectively, it’s a bit gross, room too humid and serim tasting strongly of alcohol, but wonjin couldn’t care less: it’s still the same park serim,  _ his _ serim, kissing him back with equal fervour. wonjin is more than okay with this, more than okay with the way that serim gently leans him backward until his back makes contact with the bed, kiss escalating a bit too rapidly for wonjin to keep up. wonjin doesn’t scramble for control and instead clings onto serim more strongly, grip tightening on his shoulders: he lets serim take the lead, lets the moment go where it shall.

they eventually need to separate for oxygen, sharing breaths and heaving chests. “wonjin,” serim whispers once he’s able to, eyes wide and innocent and fervently taking in the features of the man underneath him. “do you really want me?”

a smile playing onto his lips at the wording, wonjin nods and places a hand on serim’s neck to resume their little makeout session. mind clear –  _ everything is so  _ easy _ with serim, _ wonjin’s soft heart extrapolates – a second thought weasels it way in.  _ wait a minute. _ regretfully, wonjin separates his lips from serim’s once again, concerned frown playing onto the elder’s face. “didn’t jungmo tell you?” serim shakes his head and wonjin pushes gently on his chest, giving himself room to sit up and process.

the pair sit in silence, serim giving wonjin the time to process whatever’s on his mind despite his visible impatience to continue. “so,” serim says finally, establishing contact with wonjin – one hand in his own and the other rubbing his back, “you confessed because you thought he tattled on you and your feelings?”

wonjin laughs at serim’s creative wording, feeling serim’s hand pause momentarily on the small of his back. “yeah.”

“he didn’t. he’s a liar.”  _ (”no shit,” wonjin mumbles under his breath and serim smiles smally.)  _ hands wandering around wonjin’s waist, the younger man leans into the generous touches. compared to his flirtatious, half-joking actions, serim touches differently now – he tended to be a bit bold, hands settling heavy on wonjin to make his presence known. now, serim’s fingertips are gentle, barely-there, as he keeps glancing up into wonjin’s eyes, consistently monitoring his level of comfort. the sentiment is nice. wonjin falls in deeper.

"that was his plan all along, the little ass," wonjin mutters and serim chest vibrates with the faintest laughter. "i cannot believe i am saying this but thank  _ fuck _ for koo jungmo." serim looks back at him with eyes turned crescent-like and wonjin can't resist – he  _ needs _ those lips back on his. launching into action, wonjin tackles serim to the mattress this time, short pecks interrupted with giggles as they enjoy the first benefits of being in love.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! please consider leaving comments or kudos~ all feedback/support is deeply appreciated in the final stretch!
> 
> twt: @deuichas  
> curiouscat.me/tongham


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